The World Spins Madly On
by kirstennn
Summary: Leah Clearwater, Jacob Black. “Did you know you can’t smoke at IHOP now?” she says. “Is that so?” he says. She takes the square from his hand, inhales it, rolls it around her lungs and says, “The world is falling apart.”


When she wakes her head is throbbing and she doesn't know whether to attribute that to the whole pack of Miller Lites she downed last night or to the fact that her head is on the floor, her feet on the mattress and her torso in an odd limbo between the two.

Either way, her head is spinning uncontrollably, making the stick on stars on her ceiling revolve around her, as if she were the sun.

Outside of her window rain falls slowly from the trees and the three o clock fog sets in quietly among the grass, but inside, Leah's stomach is grumbling.

* * *

She can see the restaurants sign from half a mile away, like a lighthouse on a faraway cliff. A few more steps, and the smell is drifting toward her nose, pulling her closer and closer and closer. It's almost worth the four mile walk just to be near the place.

Soon, she's close enough to look into the empty restaurant. There's no one at the host's podium, but there is a busboy wiping down the vacant tables.

The door in front of her reads "IHOP" in friendly blue and white, and she pulls it toward her. The busboy looks up at her, and they lock eyes for a second, before he goes back to wiping the table.

"Customer!" he calls, to no one in particular.

Leah stands there, waiting, until a voice from the kitchen calls back, "Sit wherever you want, I'll be with you in a second."

* * *

"All right, it'll just be a minute," her server is saying as she collects Leah's menu.

She's the only person in the whole restaurant, yet she's still sitting in the middle of the corner booth, farthest from all the other tables.

She fishes her cigarette box out of her back pocket, takes out the last cigarette and sticks it in her mouth. When she lights up, all of the sudden she's taken back to her eighth birthday.

* * *

She's in sitting in this exact booth, in this exact spot. To her right are Seth and her father, and to her left are Rachel, Rebecca and Jacob, whose face is red and tear-stained.

She remembers her father telling the lot of them to order whatever they want. She remembers resenting Jacob for being there, for forcing his way into her special celebration.

She especially remembers, when the food came, how jealous she was that Jacob had the foresight to order the Mickey Mouse pancakes. When she thinks of it, she distinctly remembers that having the blueberry pancakes was the biggest regret of her year.

* * *

"Excuse me, miss, but there's no smoking in this restaurant."

Leah drops her gaze, almost barks at the old lady. "There's no one else here."

"Yes, but it's health code, so I'm going to have to ask you to stop."

"You know what?" Leah says, plucking the square out of her lips. "Can you just make my order to go?" she snaps, crushing the cigarette right on the table.

The server rolls her eyes and nods.

* * *

She finds herself at the end of his sidewalk, holding the styrofoam box stupidly in her hand.

He's sitting on his front porch with his elbows on his knees. When he sees her, he reaches one hand up to his mouth to remove the cigarette. He exhales the smoke, breathes, "Hi," then restores the cigarette to its original place. She nods. "You can come sit on my porch if you like," he says, scooting himself over. She doesn't move. They stare for a while, him at the box, and her at the cigarette.

"Want a light?" he says, and she finally exhales.

"Did you know you can't smoke at IHOP now?" she says, sitting down next to him.

"Is that so?" he says, lighting a new cigarette with the one is his mouth.

She takes the square from his hand, inhales it, rolls it around her lungs and says, "The world is falling apart." She catches him eyeing her to-go box. "You want it? I've somehow lost my appetite."

Jacob smiles, grabs the box out of her hands and opens it. A mouse with a stupid chocolate chip smile looks back up at him. "Thanks," he says.

They sit there for a while, not talking. Him inhaling the pancakes, and her savoring the last of the cigarette.

The purple turns to pink to orange turns to daylight. Jacob looks up and around, then to Leah, who is exhaling the last of her cigarette, eyes closed, trying to enjoy it as much as possible.

He nudges her on the shoulder, her eyes pop open.

"What?" she says, annoyed.

He waves the fork around, "It's morning."

"And?"

"Happy birthday."


End file.
